Fenn's Wreck:Chapter 1
by Vhurka
Summary: Concerning a band of Scions travelling across the country in a 1969 Chevrolet Corvair, the Corvair itself the titular "Fenn's Wreck" , and their exploits.


If it was 1970 and one of the last hippies was riding in the car, they would've described it as a jalopy. If it was 1991 or thereabouts and someone involved in hip-hop culture was in the car, they would've described it as a hooptie. In 2010, the four in the car called it "Fenn's Wreck" or just "the Wreck." It was a 1969 Chevrolet Corvair, and allegedly the last car of that make and model to make it out of a factory and into a lot. The silver paint was chipped in some places and utterly stripped away in others, the windows were cracked, and one of the front lights appeared to have disappeared. It was the kind of car that would send any passionate car lover into a blind rage.

Among the four people in the car, it was considered to be somewhere between a blessing and a liability. Fenn, son of the goddess Danu and a mortal chef, had perhaps the most positive view of it, although even he admitted that the car was recognizable enough to be a liability at times. Least friendly to the car was Claudia, daughter of the Aztec war god Huitziopochtli. It was always dirty, and she hated being dirty. The other two were somewhere between Fenn's conditional love and Claudia's barely contained loathing.

Fenn's Wreck had parked outside of a Vietnamese restaurant in San Fransisco 20 minutes ago, and the people in the car were currently arguing over who should go into said Vietnamese restaurant.

"You do it, you look asian anyway. He'll like that." That was Claudia.

"First of all, I do not 'look asian,' and second of all, we have no evidence that if I did he would like me more!" Thomas, a child of a Hawaiian thunder goddess, replied.

"Actually, you kinda do. Like, southeast asian. You have the right skin and everything. That sounded kinda weird."

Mina, a goth and the daughter of a Greek Goddess that no one had heard of, groaned and shook her head. Every time Fenn suggested the "send somebody in first to make sure it's safe" idea, this happened. An irritatingly rational part of her brain said that it made sense for them to react this way, the point of sending someone else in first was that if they died, no one else would, and nobody wanted to die, not even those poseur "daughters of the night" that she found in the malls. "Fuck it," she growled, "I'll go." Everyone turned to her, shocked.

"You will?" Claudia asked.

"If it will get you to shut up, I'll gladly go. In fact, mark me as the guinea pig for every time after this if it means I don't have to hear this stupid arguing every time we go somewhere dangerous."

Without another word, Mina slid out of The Wreck through it's broken window, not bothering to unlock and open the door, and turned towards the Vietnamese restaurant.

Once inside, she brushed off the waitress trying to lead her to a table and made her way to the back of the restaurant-only about ten feet from the front, not unusual considering the average size of the shops in this neighborhood. At the back table sat what looked like a grinning asian man in a suit, gray-haired but with a nice haircut, in a fine suit.

The man said something Mira couldn't understand to the waitress, and she smiled and ran back into the restaurant's small kitchen.

"I'm glad to see you decided to come in," the man said jokingly. "I saw your car drive up some time ago. Was there a problem with your team?"

"Just the usual problems with the democratic process."

"Ah." The suited man never stopped grinning. "Would you like to order something?"

"I've eaten, thank you. What did you want to hire us for?"

"Right down to business, I see." The man poured yellow, steaming tea into a porcelain cup. "Tea?"

_What the hell, _Mina thought. She took the teapot and poured it into the other cup provided. "Now, you said you had a problem with your son?"

"You rush too much," the suited man commented absently. The waitress came back and placed a steaming plate of something covered in red sauce in front of the suited man, who turned to her and said what Mina assumed were words of thanks in Vietnamese, or whatever one called the language they speak in Vietnam.

"Are you sure you don't want to order anything?" By now, Mina was beginning to find the mans persistent grin a little disturbing.

"No, thank you. I've already eaten."

The asian man just shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said. He took a bite of the mysterious asian food-reflecting later, Mina realized it was probably just sweet-and-sour chicken-and swallowed unusually loudly. "Now," he said, "we can talk business. My daughter-"

"Wait, I thought we were talking about your son."

"Oh, no. I haven't had any problems with my sons recently. You must have misunderstood. My daughter Lanlan was born in the 1980s-or so I believe. I have had children living in this part of the world for many years now, but I still have some trouble with your calendar. It's so very…arbitrary. Numbering all the years after the execution of a man."

"You're messing with me, aren't you?"

His grin became even wider. "You're sharp. That's good. I do know that's a position you used to see a lot of value in."

Mina shrugged. "I was never much for Jesus, with all that he did to my dad. But that's beside the point."

"Jesus did nothing to your father," the asian man pointed out. "Your father's _belief _in Jesus did everything to him. But that is _far _beside the point."

Mna's mouth hung open for a minute. "How…"she swallowed air a few times before guzzling the previously untouched tea in her cup. "How do you know about my father?"

"I do make a point to know about people that may be working for me. May I continue." Mina nodded, shell-shocked.

"Thank you. Now, returning to my point, Lanlan was born right around here, and by my records, she's always been a bit of a handful for her mother. Her cousins were street toughs, and she learned from them more than she ever learned from her mother. I told her I would support her, and the power I had given her would remain, as long as she fought the servants of the Titans-and it would help if she learned some manners as well." He paused for a moment, and his perpetual grin vanished.

"She found out about the alternative, and gave herself to the Titans. She's become dangerous to me and my interests. I need mortal representatives who can eliminate her. I would do it myself, of course, but-she's my daughter. I can't-"

"I know how it is," Mina interrupted, becoming more and more uncomfortable with the situation. "She's family. I've been through the same thing."

"Really? I didn't know that."

Mina stood. "You may have been able to track down some info about my dad, but that doesn't mean you know me. We'll handle your daughter, sir. Just one question."

"Ah, thank you." The smile returned, though not with the same force it had at first. "Your question?"

"You're Chinese, right? So…why a Vietnamese restaurant?"

"Oh, it's quite simple. If anyone were looking for me, they would expect me in a Chinese restaurant. This throws off my potential enemies. And this restaurant has very good food."

"Makes sense. We'll have your daughter dealt with soon, sir. And, uh, good luck."

Mina returned to the street to find that The Wreck had inexplicably disappeared from its parked space in front of the restaurant.

"Lovely," she muttered.


End file.
